


Even Fiercer and Cleverer than Before

by gypsydancergirl (hauntedlittledoll)



Series: Clever 'Verse [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, Gen, Kid Fic, Norse Myths & Legends, Random Literary References for the Win
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-11-26
Updated: 2010-11-26
Packaged: 2017-11-14 01:44:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/509987
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hauntedlittledoll/pseuds/gypsydancergirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is set in an alternate Season Six . . . in which Sam is not soulless.  Castiel spends more than three minutes on Earth at a time.  Crowley is selectively evil and not the Big Bad.  And Gabriel is back.  When Team Freewill encounters the children of a pagan god, they end up reuniting with an errant archangel.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Even Fiercer and Cleverer than Before

**Author's Note:**

> Title taken from J. K. Rowling's "Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince."
> 
> Prompt: written for catyuy: "Supernatural, Gabriel, In reality, Loki's children are quite different than how they are portrayed in the mythology."

“Dean,” Castiel whispered harshly. “I have reason to believe that the Fallen have captured one of the pagan gods. The erratic power being displayed is telling of a juvenile being which may be the reason it was so easily captured.”

“Dude, you’re telling me that they’ve got the supernatural equivalent of the president’s daughter in there?”

“This will undoubtedly become quite messy,” Castiel nodded. “We may in fact get in an avenging parent’s way, or incur further wrath from both parties, but if we do not go in . . .”

“. . . then the Fallen might actually hurt a kid,” Sam finished, “before Mommy or Daddy can get here.”

Castiel nodded. “It is up to you.”

“I don’t want another dead kid on my conscience—super-powered or not. We’re going in.”

* * *

There were actually two kids involved. One wore the form of a twelve year old boy, and the other was a smaller girl, and both were blonde. Even gagged, the boy’s face and particularly his eyes looked really familiar as he glared at Sam from across the room. The boy was tied to a chair with a writhing angry snake that did nothing for Sam’s nerves. The little girl was cowering in his lap, hiding her face in the boy’s denim jacket.

The Winchesters’ presence had been noted, but the kids weren’t about to rat them out. Emboldened, Dean reached for the holy oil. They were going for a non-bloody rescue, but prepared to turn into a smash and grab if necessary.

Such as if a Fallen recognized Castiel’s presence and raised a ruckus. Dean reached for the angelic blade and moved to his guardian angel’s side. Six Fallen angels were a bit much, even for the new-and-improved Castiel. Sam dove for the kids.

“My name’s Sam,” he introduced himself with a hasty smile. “We’re going to get you out of here, okay? Just don’t make any sudden movements until I can get you free. Sweetheart, can you let go of your brother for a second so I can reach?” Sam tried to gently shift the maybe forty-pounds of little girl away, but she clung to her brother with a deathgrip not entirely human. “Sweetheart, I’m going to get you both out of here. I promise.” Sam shifted and moved to ungag the boy, hoping that perhaps he could reason with his sister. “Can you—”

The boy snapped his head back and howled for a good two minutes while Sam stared in shock. And then the entire building started to rattle, and Sam found his voice.

“Guys! I think Mama Bear is on the way!” Sam grabbed the girl, who transferred her leech-like clinging capabilities to him without protest and dug for the demon-killing knife. He’d go out on a limb and say that it should have some effect on snake-like bonds, but the blonde boy jerked away when he bared the blade. “I’m not gonna hurt you,” Sam promised. “I’m just gonna cut you free.”

“No!” the boy shouted as the building gave another ominous shift. “Don’t hurt him!” Sam didn’t have time to puzzle that out, as all the windows blew out simultaneously. Instead, he pushed the girl into her brother’s lap again and covered both (three?) of them with his body.

A mini-quake later and everything has gone perfectly still. And Sam recognized the voice if not the tone when the newly-arrived combatant snarled “How. Dare. You.”

“Daddy!” the little girl shrieked in Sam’s ear and pulled free of his grasp. Sam spun belatedly; the little girl was already in her _father’s_ arms, face hidden in the archangel’s neck.

“Gabriel,” Castiel spoke the obvious somewhat-belatedly.

“Not now, Castiel,” the angel returned sharply. His focus was completely on the Fallen who were now edging away warily. “Who’s brilliant idea was it to take my children?”

Deciding that Gabriel had the carnage well-in-hand, Sam turned back to the boy. “Okay, how do I get you loose if I can’t cut the snake?”

The boy gave him a look as if he were utterly stupid. It makes the kid look even more like Gabriel. “If I knew that, don’t you think I’d of done it by now?”

Sam swallowed back a retort and crouched behind the boy to better inspect the snake which was twined in a double figure-eight around the boy’s wrists with its tail firmly clamped in its mouth. Well, at least that solved the problem of a biting reflex. “Alright,” Sam murmured. “Maybe I can just slide him off if you relax your wrists and I work one coil at a time.”

“Don’t hurt him,” the boy commanded.

“I’ll try not to,” Sam promised, and carefully ran one hand along the curve of scales. And because he wasn’t done looking like an idiot, and small talk seemed out of context here: “So . . . um . . . Gabriel’s your Dad?”

He probably deserved that withering look.

The snake hissed ominously, shaking in Sam’s careful grasp. And Sam was not going to personify an animal this early in the game. Not even if the shaking felt like terror at the strange handling. Sam cautiously slid one loop free. The thing was going to be knotted at the end of this, but that wasn’t going to be his problem, Sam resolved and worked a second loop over the boy’s hand. The snake shivered, loosening enough to fall into Sam’s hands.

The boy turned right around and snatched the creature from Sam, coaxing it with one hand and nonsense words. “It’s alright. I’ve got you. Just hold still.” A deft prod unhinged the snake’s jaw and the snake slithered free, righting itself hastily and re-hinging the jaw. Sam felt a little too close to this Discovery Channel special and backed up, just in time. The snake writhed, and coiled hastily around the boy’s chest, moving to his arm and shoulder, fangs bared threateningly as Sam beat a hasty retreat backwards.

“Jordy,” came Gabriel’s scolding voice from right behind Sam, making Sam jump again. “Mind your manners.” Gabriel took a step closer and held out his arm, allowing the snake to coil around him instead of the boy, and cradling it closely to his chest. “Enough of this. I’m right here. C’mon, baby. I’m right here.”

Fatherly!Gabriel went right up next to romantically-inclined!Castiel for signs of possible demon possession.

The little girl peered sideways from her hiding spot against Gabriel’s opposite shoulder and reached out tiny fingers to pet the snake comfortingly. The preteen crossed his arms, sulking just out of the archangel’s reach. So . . . three children. Sort of. How the Fallen had managed to get their hands on all of Gabriel’s _children_ without drawing attention was somewhat foreboding, but Sam decided that could wait.

Dean was not so patient. “What on earth is this?”

“What does it look like, Deano?” Gabriel shot back, cradling the two smallest to him carefully. “Kids. My kids. I’ve got this. Go away.”

“We just—”

“Thanks, alright? Thanks for letting them loose. Thanks for getting my attention. Thanks for the help in the fight. Now, go away, Winchester.”

“Gabriel.”

“No, Castiel!”

“Daddy,” a soft voice spoke from the region of Gabriel’s shoulder, and slowly, the little girl peeked upright. One side of her face was scarred, and Sam inhaled sharply at the obvious burn. She peeked warily from under her blonde curls with golden eyes just like her brother and Gabriel’s, and solidified her position by hiking herself up closer to Gabriel’s ear. “Mind your manners,” she whispered, but loudly enough for the hunters to catch.

“We bear no wrongful intentions towards the children, Gabriel,” Castiel tried again. “They are not nephillim.”

“Will that matter?” Gabriel swallowed hard.

“We’re brothers, Gabriel,” Castiel offered, looking hurt.

“Lucifer held no reservations about killing his brothers,” Gabriel returned. “I’m not in the mood for a repeat of history.” And Sam is about to open his mouth here, when Dean elbows him hard in the gut. Sam instantly quiets, waiting to see what his brother intends to do.

“Look, dude, I’m thinking that your kids could rip us into little pieces and serve us up in an Easy-Bake Oven Buffet if circumstances call for it,” Dean offered cautiously. “You’ve got a Fallen-problem. We can help. We need a book anyway, so we’re after the same big bads here. We can work together or just run into each other a lot.”

Gabriel doesn’t look remotely pleased with the prospect, but he snaps his fingers, and just like that they find themselves somewhere else. The blonde boy tosses himself on the nearest sofa and reaches for an abandoned x-box controller. Everyone else stands awkwardly in the living room of an over-sized cabin.

“Gabe! You found . . . found them . . .” Chuck trailed off awkwardly. “Um, hi, guys?”

“Chuck!” the little girl scrambles down her reluctant father and flung herself at the prophet. “Chuck!” She buried her tiny face in his bathrobe, and he pet her hair awkwardly.

“I thought we agreed that it was my turn for indiscriminant violence, angel,” Crowley added his two cents from the upstairs railing. “Hullo, little luv.”

“Crowley,” the child waved with her free hand, the other employed in yanking on Chuck’s bathrobe to be picked up. The prophet did so gingerly, a cautious eye on Gabriel.

“I never asked to deal with this,” Gabriel announced at large. “I don’t want to deal with this, I don’t have to deal with any of this, and therefore I’m not going to deal with it. Anyone gets any funny ideas and the wards will dump him outside. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go attempt coaxing my son out of animal form.” Head held high, Gabriel climbed the steps with the snake still wrapped around his arm, moved past Crowley, and slammed the last door behind him.

“This is rather unusual,” Castiel mused quietly.

“Yeah, all we’re missing is Jesse and the manwitch,” Dean sniped.

“Patrick died a few months ago from somewhat excessive old age, and Jesse’s at school,” Chuck explained, turning red when the Winchesters stared at him in shock. “Or Gabriel might not have gotten that far in explaining things . . .”

“Nice one, prophet,” Crowley snorted, descending the stairs with all the pomp and circumstance of the queen. “Like the angel would give any of his cards away.” Crowley plucked the little girl from Chuck’s arms and settled her in his own. “I suppose the usual pleasantries should be dispensed with in light of current circumstances.”

“Actually, I’d like a couple of explanations, and a better explanation of just who these kids are,” Dean demanded. “And what’s up with the snake? Is that normal for angel babies?”

“No, no, Jordy’s just—well, he’s not usually a snake,” Chuck explained, hands fluttering.

The kid on the couch snorted. “Come on, Chuck. He is too—kid’s scared of _bloody_ everything.”

“Don’t swear,” Chuck shot back in a rare moment of almost-parental assertiveness that was coupled with a dirty look at Crowley. Then remembering his unhelpful status as a human and their relative supernatural selves, he cowered. “And . . . and there’s nothing wrong with Jordy being shy. You should . . . should be nice to your brother.”

The kid rolled his eyes. “I look out for him, don’t I?” He rolled over, hanging over the edge of the sofa upside down as he played. “My name’s . . .”

“Fenrir,” Sam supplied, remembering the unearthly howl. “And the snake . . . er, Jordy . . . is really Jormungand.”

“Mouthful,” Dean commented.

“Duh,” the kid responded, never taking his eyes off the video game.

Sam turned towards the little girl in a demon’s arms, the burned side of her face a soft rose color when compared with the ivory tone of her other cheek. “That would make you . . .”

She beamed up at him. “I’m Bunny!”

Sam blinked. “Um, that one, I’m not familiar with.”

“That’s because our girl here picked it out for herself,” Crowley chuckled at Sam’s stunned expression. “You didn’t think people would call her by her given name after those ridiculous Norse Neanderthals trapped her there.”

Sam nodded, his sensibilities bruised but seeing sense. Calling a little girl ‘Hel’ wasn’t a good idea anyway. Not in present company.

Dean just shook his head. “Great. That’s Sam and Cas. I’m Dean. Do these two do animal impressions too?”

Miffed, Bunny shook her head, and Fenrir gave a lazy grin, shifting into a great wolf. “Parlor tricks, really,” Crowley sniffed. “And vulgar. Get off the sofa before you shed, Fenrir.”

The wolf blinked back into the boy-shaped form and rolled his eyes at the demon.

“Excellent. Now how about you two . . . and Jesse. What’s he doing here?”

“Well, this is Gabriel’s home for Unneeded Apocalyptic Figures,” Crowley sneered. “And we happen to be invited guests.”

“Who have overstayed their welcome,” Gabriel bellowed from upstairs.

“Who provide free babysitting, decent food, and excellent company with which our resident archangel cannot help but find indispensible,” Crowley corrected smoothly.

“I’ve got a headache already,” Dean grimaced.

“Join the club,” Sam muttered back. “Cas, what are you thinking?”

“I find the warding ingenious and potentially helpful to Bobby’s quest,” the angel returned, captivated by the nearest wooden wall.

Dean shook his head and collapsed on the sofa next to the upside down kid. “I could go for a drink or three.”

“I’ll get it,” Chuck scurried for the presumed-safety of the kitchen.

“And I’ll go keep an eye on our recovering alcoholic,” Crowley decided, passing off . . . Bunny . . . to a startled Castiel. The newest minted archangel watched the small child with the air of one handed the atomic bomb.

“Cas, it works easier if you hold her against you instead of two feet away,” Dean offered helpfully. Castiel gives him a similar look to when Bobby first put a gun in his hands—Sam refers to this look as the _What are you smoking?_ Expression, and will until Dean or Castiel provide him with an actual reason not to. Bunny just hangs suspended in the air from the double-handed grip Castiel has under her arms, but she’s beaming like this is the greatest game on earth.

Sam digs for his cell phone on principle and snaps a picture to Castiel’s displeasure. Then, to prove he is the more considerate brother, he shows Castiel how to curve one arm under Bunny in support as little legs and arms twine around the angel. The blonde head rests on Castiel’s shoulder angelically, and it’s a pretty picture that Sam captures as soon as Castiel’s attention has been successfully diverted by Dean.

The blackmail files on Sam’s phone rivals Crowley’s.

Chuck bustles in with four glasses, two cokes, and a sippy cup of juice. Crowley follows with the bottle. Bunny frowns at them both. “I’m not a baby,” she pronounces with great dignity.

“Humor us, love,” Crowley soothes. “You’re growing up too fast.”

The little girl gives a put-upon sigh, but accepts the drink and shifts to accommodate Castiel sitting down. She makes herself comfortable in his lap, and Castiel soothes her blonde curls back into place with one cautious hand.

“Keep an eye on your drinks. Fenrir likes to sample,” Chuck warns, passing off one of the soft drinks to the boy—now upright and sniffing the air appreciatively. The other coke he keeps, although he’s jittery enough without the caffeine.

“Not if he knows what is good for him,” Gabriel warns, coming down to join them. There’s a boy that appears to be around nine years old in his arms, hair the same brown as Gabriel’s and skinny as a rail. He looks exhausted, and it’s on the tip of Sam’s tongue to suggest that maybe Gabriel should put the boy to bed instead. He decides against offering parenting advice to an archangel though.

Gabriel sits abruptly on the floor, his son sliding comfortably into his lap, hazel eyes sliding shut in apparent relaxation. Dean isn’t buying it, considering the boy’s deathgrip on Gabriel’s shirt. Gabriel snaps his fingers, acquiring a drink for himself and regards Castiel with disapproval.

Castiel shifted uneasily. Bunny waved to her father cheerily.

Crowley sighed, passing his drink to Sam and scoops up Bunny. “Come on, luv. Your father’s in a paranoid mood. It’s where Jordy gets it.”

Gabriel barely manages to restrain himself from responding. Dean mentally applauds his restraint. “Crowley, would you be so kind as to pick Jesse up from school?” the archangel grit through his teeth. “Make it quick . . . I don’t know how choosy the Fallen are at this point.”

“Of course. Let us not forget the all-powerful eleven year old’s desperate need for the protection of a mere crossroads demon.” Crowley rolled his eyes and set Bunny on the floor next to her father. “Keep an eye on him, will you, luv?”

“Uh-huh,” Bunny promised, wrapping both arms around Gabriel’s free arm, and suddenly shy, hiding her face in his arm.

“Only one with a lick of sense in the whole house,” Crowley muttered under his breath before disappearing.

Gabriel sighed and reached past his two youngest to tug the video game controller out of Fenrir’s hands. “You’ve got ten minutes to spill before Jesse gets back and you have to explain yourself to him.”

Fenrir groaned.

Gabriel raised one eyebrow.

The preteen huffed. “We weren’t that far over the warding,” he muttered resentfully. If Jordy hadn’t taken one look at them and gone snake, we would have been fine.”

Jordy shivered, peering from behind the curtain of soft brown hair.

“Bunny stopped to pick him up, and got grabbed. I thought she had Jordy though, so I turned to bite the ringleader only to find that he had Jordy. I barely managed to shift back in time. They used him to tie me up, which sucks ass.”

“Language,” Chuck scolds without heat.

Jordy was resolutely not looking at anyone, although Gabriel’s hand rubbed his back in slow rhythmic circles. Bunny patted his clenched hand sympathetically.

“Why would they tie you up with your snake brother?” Dean interrupts. “That’s just all sorts of weird. If they were planning on capturing you, surely they came prepared.”

“Yeah, they planned to tie me up with Jordy,” the preteen scoffed.

“Fenrir can break any possible binding placed on him,” Sam put forth. “Right? And in lieu of a rope of impossible items . . .”

“. . . they used something Fenrir wouldn’t break,” Gabriel nodded in acknowledgment. “Don’t even think about it,” he addresses his youngest son, cupping the boy’s head in one hand.

“Baby,” Fenrir muttered under his breath, and dodging Gabriel’s annoyed look. “They had us, they had Bunny, ‘cause it’s not like she’s big enough to do anything useful on her own. I was trying to convince her to shift when the hunters turned up.”

“I can’t,” Bunny protested loudly. “I can’t!

“Can too!”

“Can’t! Can’t, can’t, can’t, can’t, Can’t!”

On the last and highest pitch ‘can’t’, Crowley reappears with an unnecessary audible pop, and Jordy immediately disappears into a rush of scales, hastily disappearing under Gabriel’s outer shirt. “Shit,” the archangel mutters right before pandemonium broke out. Dean belatedly makes a grab for Fenrir, before deciding such an attempt might be suicidal. Instead, he grabs the irate little girl and settles her on his shoulders and out of reach. Gabriel collars Fenrir, and in the midst of all of this an eleven year old puts down his backpack and snaps everyone back to their respective seats.

Jesse crosses his arms. “What have you all done now? And when did the Winchesters get here?”

* * *

Wholly unimpressed and arguing with Gabriel about the necessity of school, Jesse was a lot brattier than Dean remembered. Even Fenrir had retreated to the kitchen where he could be heard harassing Chuck while Crowley stood in the arch between the kitchen and combination dining room/living room so he could watch both scenes.

“They do stupid things when I’m not there,” Jesse argued. Point for the half-demon spawn.

“You belong in school.” Nice comeback, Gabriel—not.

“I could have snapped them away !”

“You’re not testing your powers against the Fallen.” That sounded vaguely parental.

“You said—”

“I’m _saying_ no!”

Gabriel had just won the undying respect of ‘I-Just-Want-to-be-Normal’ Sam Winchester. Dean groaned. There would be no living with any of them after this. Castiel shared his pained-expression, and the newest archangel of the Lord looked very much like he would like to escape to the kitchen like a coward too.

Even during the most epic backseat battles, Ben and Claire were never this bad.

Dean felt a very small chin come to a rest against the top of his head. “Hey,” he nudged Bunny’s Mary Jane clad foot. “No falling asleep.” She honestly got heavier. “Dude, I’m not a pillow.”

“Too late, Dean,” Sam snickered. “She’s out.”

Dean groaned, even as Gabriel and Jesse’s argument came to a halt as they both inspected Dean’s newest accessory. This was going to be a long and uneasy truce.

_"The Dark Arts are many, varied, ever-changing, and eternal.  Fighting them is like fighting a many-headed monster, which, each time a neck is severed, sprouts a head even fiercer and cleverer than before.  You are fighting that which is unfixed, mutating, indestructible."_


End file.
